Fall into Orc's lap
by Vahditar
Summary: The Orsimer is ready to let his irreverent life to end, but a Nord trying to prove herself comes surprisingly to his aid. And to have the bounty of him.
1. Savior and the opposite

Saar had not born under the stars of Nine Divines.  
But taking into account that he was an Orsimer, maybe it was more rational to think, that he had born under the stars of Daedras instead.  
And as an Orc, under the specific star of Malacath, the Daedric Prince of the spurned and ostracized ones.  
That seemed more fitting, as most of his life Saar had felt being ostracized by others.

Abandoned into the Honorhall Orphanage of Riften as a baby, Saar had no knowledge of his origins. He was taken care and raised by Constance Michel, who was the kind headmistress of the orphanage.  
Though no visitor never showed any interest of adopting an Orc child, the boy wasn't troubled by this. Or wasn't at first.  
Since he was taken care from since he was a baby by Constance, the boy saw the Imperial woman as a caring mother of his. The Orsimer boy lived happily in the orphanage, helped to take care of other children and run errands, cook and clean.  
As Saar was over eleven summers though, Constance started to put more effort into have someone to adopt the Orsimer boy.

The headmistress of the Honorhall Orphanage sent letters and spoke to people about the Orc boy. Guided visitors to have a look first at Saar before other children.  
But no-one got interested. No-one came, stayed nor looked at the Orc child more than a second before switching to others. No-one spoke to him.  
It was just that... That no-one wants an Orsimer child.  
Nord, Redguard or Breton, sure. Mer children? Maybe, but if having to decide between other Mer and an Orc? They chose the other Mer child over the Orc one. Heck, they even chose Khajit cub over Orc if coming to that.  
It was getting clear to Saar, after every Constance attempt, that no-one fancied him as their son because of his race. Sure, he was good a boy, obedient, smart, kept his long black hair in neat ponytail, was kind, helpful and all other things that surely everyone wished their child to be.  
But no.  
Because he had a flat, wide nose of a beast, tusks that grow out of his mouth, pointy big ears, dark colored eyes and grayish thick skin... He was not desirable. He was not small, cute nor normal looking enough to be imagined as an own child.  
After the Orc boy figured that out, it pained. And as Constance so determinedly tried over and over again, it also became clear that she neither wanted him to be her son or stay in the orphanage.

The Orsimer boy had no heritage, no knowledge nor sense who he was, no idea of what being an Orsimer was about and now the only place that he thought he could call home started to feel like despising him too.  
Bitterness is a devious sickness, when it takes a hold of one's heart. Plays with your fears and suspicions, growing and twisting them into something more worse. Gives any good reason to feel angry, misled and whispers more and more lies, twisting the truth to its host. Making them feel like alone and betrayed.  
And when the bitterness is directed towards someone very close and loved one, its even worse to have.

A teenager is difficult to raise. Even so, if they are an Orsimer who feel like they are not really wanted and are being lied to in the form of affection.  
Saar did some mistakes. Those kind of mistakes, that lead into the path of crimes and leaving the Honorhall and Rift to avoid the law. To join in the desperate need the bandits and do things that knew to be wrong but needed to do nonetheless.  
Saar was not proud of his mistakes, of being so weak minded as a boy, of letting himself to be so easily consumed by fear, anger and bitterness. Of letting himself fell so low and become something, that had to avoid guards and have a bounty of his head.

But guess it was too late to regret any of it now, in the situation that Saar had gotten himself into, the certain death looming over him.  
He had been during his life in many shitty situations, criminal life was like that, but this newest one, this one, was the by far the shittiest.  
Even getting caught by guards wasn't that bad compared to what Forsworns were planning to do to him...

* * *

It was a fifth night now since Saar had been captured by the Forsworns. His comrades had been killed in the surprise attack by the road, and he had been beaten to half conscious.  
Then the Madmen had brought him into their small camp, on a high rock where there was a great view of the Reach's valley below. The Orsimer had been certain the bastards were going to throw him over the cliff as they dragged his ass through the camp and towards the edge.  
Five Forsworn was pulling him with ropes, like he was some damn wild animal, poking him with spears whenever he was going to collapse or try to struggle in his beaten state.  
During the fight at the road someone had batted the back of his head, and the injury made him feel strong headache, nausea and his vision kept blurring now and then.  
Seeing the cliff getting closer the tall Orsimer struggled even harder with more force behind his actions, fear increasing even more and so the berserk state kicked in.  
Saar's vision started turning into red, his body ignoring all the wounds and the pain as he growled viciously in the back of his throat.  
Then the Orc was hit again on his head and his mind blackened.

When Saar's consciousness crept back, and he opened his eyes, his heart tried to leap into his throat because how close to the edge he was. Practically leaning towards and almost over it!  
Instincts screaming to get away from the high fall as below opened the Reach's rift in the night Saar tried to turn and move. The view would have been quite the spectacular if the Orc hand't been pissing his pants. Though... He didn't have any pants, nor undergarments nor his unmatched armor set as all had been stripped off from him.  
And despite really wanting to, Saar couldn't move even an inch. His arms and legs were twisted and tied up behind, his body was in kneeling position and ropes were tightened across his middle and his throat to trap him against a dead tree trunk behind his back.  
In confusion and panic he only made splinters dug into his back and rope burns create into his dark grey, thick skin.  
But alone at the edge of the cliff, outside the camp, Saar had plenty of time to calm down.

At the morning the Orc was nicely informed, with some kicks and mocking, that he was going to be used as a sacrifice, cut open and his organs taken, when both moons would be full at a night sky.  
And until then, he was going to be kept there as their prisoner.  
Saar wished the madmen had just thrown him over the cliff after all.

During passing these five days the Forswons had tortured him with the basic kicking and hitting, not wanting to kill him just yet, mocking and laughing at the big strong beast being so weak and able to just struggle. On the second day one had gotten excited a bit too much and started to cut Saar's tattooed chest and arms, tracing the black spirals and patterns until Saar's screams and flowing blood made others to stop the act.  
Didn't want the sacrificial lamb bleed to death just yet.  
The health potion had stopped the bleeding and eased some of his pains, but not enough.  
The lasting kneeling position had made Saar's muscles stiff and numb, his untreated wounds stinging and the elements against his bear form wearing.  
The summer sun burned down at him during daytime and at night the cold stone and howling wind froze him. On the fourth night it rained.

The situation was bad, one of his top five. He was going to die by these crazy bastards' hands. Being cut open for their some crazy god.  
And he couldn't fight back at all.

Saar was despise of his start just like any other Orc in physical way. Though he maybe was even taller than another Orc. He was a tall and big Orsimer, he was wide in every way, strong as a bear and fighting was in his hot blood.  
Maybe it had been his viciousness that had made the Forsworns spare him to be sacrificed. Still, this was not how an Orc should die. Bounded, weakened and unable to fight back.  
They should have just thrown him over the ledge...

Passing each day, being given little food to keep breathing and then being beaten, had fast made Saar weak.  
His skin was more pale grey than dark, he couldn't feel nor budge his thick and long limbs, his right dark brown eye's vision wasn't so clear as the left one's and his mouth felt oddly sticky. His right tusk, that had broken from its middle, ached even though the bleeding had stopped.  
Staying awake was being difficult but he also couldn't sleep.

The Orc was dragged back to present by a sharp kick to his side.  
Taking a breath, the simple act painful, he pried his left eye open as the other one was swollen shut. Saar tried to glare up at the Forsworn who stood there with a torch.  
Even if it was still night and the headgear shadowed the Forsworn's face, the grey Orc could just picture the mocking grin of the guard. And then clearly see it when the bastard crouched and brought the torch near to Saar's face, making the Orsimer flinch from the heat and bright light.  
He instinctively tried to move away, the ropes stopping his frail attempt and his body protesting against any movement.  
He could only shut his eyes and grit, listen as the Forsworn enjoyed of his torturing, waving the fire near the pale, scarred and bruised grey skin of the Orsimer.  
Luckily Saar kept shaven head, but he was terrified to think that what if some spark would catch on his full black beard that had grown thick by now.

Finally the guard pulled the torch away while gaggling and Saar felt his face prickling from the heat. The thought of getting burned made the twenty-five years old Orsimer feel fear. And anger, wanting to get from these ropes and go on full rampage. Kill every woman and man in this camp, rip them apart and leave their bodies hanging over the edge and be dried up by the sun.  
Damn these crazy bastards!  
Saar really hadn't born under lucky stars...

"The day is coming slowly Orc", the guard said in conversational tone, looking through the weakened Orc's body, looking all the dark bruises, open wounds and swollen parts. The half-Breton slapped the Orsimer's stubble head. The mer just grunted weakly, although at the beginning he had roared and cursed at them.  
"Cheer up buddy, morning is soon here and we can enjoy of the sunrise together." the Forsworn said while getting up.  
Getting irritated Saar mumbled. The guard looked down at him.  
"What was that?"  
The guard waited for a moment with amusement, wanting to hear what the Orc had said if the beast looking could even really think or just repeat what it had learned.  
But as the moment kept stretching, the Forsworn quickly lost his patience.

Saar wasn't ready nor was any able to brace to the vicious kicking. He could only take it, close his eyes and bear through the act.  
The kicking abruptly halted though, stopping just after couple of vicious kicks.  
Hearing sounds Saar cautiously opened his seeing eye, and stared in confusion as the guard now lied on the ground, torch dropped and an arrow sticking from the half-Nord's head.

Blinking, abashed, the Orsimer stared and tried to understand what had happened. And then even more, when by Malacath things started to happen behind him in the camp.  
Soon he could hear Forsworns readying to a fight, yelling at each other and trying to locate the attackers. There was an uphill behind the camp with covering trees and in front just the cliff, so it wasn't hard to know which direction the arrows were coming from.  
With hammering heart, sweat on forehead and trying effortlessly free from his binds, muscles aching, Saar tried to listen and keep up with things.  
Who was attacking the camp? Hold's guards? Mercenaries? Other crazy people? Were they going to be Saar's saviors or kill him too?  
Not able to turn and see what all the noises were and why Saar could only wait and see what would happen to him.  
Maybe they wouldn't notice him, out of the camp's lights. But then in other hand they had shot the guard when he had been abusing the bounded Orc.

To Saar's interest he only heard Forsworns, or at least he thought it was only the crazy bastards, shouting at first battle cries before yelling in surprise and agony, stumbling and falling as the camp got quiet quickly.  
Was it another rival Forsworn tribe? Saar had heard the Forsworns sometimes fought among themselves.  
The silence falling over the camp unnerved him.  
Pointy ears twitching he next heard lonely footsteps in the camp.  
One person, were was the rest? Or was this one just inspecting for survivors ahead?  
Well... If they were going to kill him, better by someone else than the Madmen. At least this one would surely give him more quicker, less painful death.  
Wasn't like Saar had anything to loose nor anyone to miss him after all.  
And it wasn't like in the end he didn't deserve this kind of dishonorable death without able to fight back.

As the footsteps kept approaching his direction and then were right behind him, the Orsimer closed his eyes for a moment.  
Then opened them to give one last glance at the open scenery in front of him.  
During these days of torture he really had not much time to look at the nice view and really enjoy of it. But now, the two moons up at the sky, stars bright and the whole Reach to him to see...  
This could be worse.  
He could have died that one time in the shitty Falmer cave if the other bandit hadn't tripped and slowed the blind creatures, giving Saar the opportunity to escape. At least he could watch the open starry sky as he would be executed.

Seeing the person standing next to him from the corner of his eye, the Orc slowly turned his face to side and then up. Wanting to see who was going to end him.

The person was wearing almost full heavy armor set, made from steel as far as Saar could identify, with unknown design on it. With lots of dark fur and a picture of a wolf's head on middle of the collar. A dark brown wolf hide covered the person's head and shoulders, its front paws circling their chest. Their lower face was covered with a black cloth.  
From the unique gear, as Saar had not seen one before, the Orc next noticed the weapon they hold on their hands.  
It looked like a bow, arrow loaded in it. But the thing was small, golden and mechanical with gears and-  
The person whirled around, soothing with the thing as it sent the arrow flying and then Saar could hear curling voice and a body hitting the ground.  
He didn't take his eyes from the stranger, swallowing silently under their shadowed gaze as they slowly turned back to him.  
They cocked their head to side, the wolf hide's head wobbling from the movement.  
Saar kept waiting, nervous and yet needing some kind of release.

"Are you Saar?" the stranger finally questioned with a feminine voice.  
A woman?  
The Orc was still pretty dizzy from the days of torture and the sudden happening. And still not being sure what was the woman's intentions towards him. However, after a moment the archer looked down from his face and Saar felt his cheeks heating from the condition he was in, feeling ashamed. He looked away, stiffening when the other one crouched, putting away the strange weapon and pulled out a dagger from her belt.  
From the sight of it Saar inhaled heavily, ready to die, but halting as the quick breathing made his chest hurt.  
The weapon wasn't used on him though, not the way he excepted, as his bounds were instead cut off.  
First hands, legs and then his body.

Being on the same position for long period, blood circling difficult in his limbs, had made his body stiff and numb.  
The mer immediately tipped over, for a moment believing that this time he was going to fall over the near edge, but instead he just kinda sprawled against the cold stone ground, face with tusks slamming down and limbs spreading.  
Soon the now free muscles started to tingle and ache more, a good kind of aching, as the blood started flow back into them. His body was in pain but being free was completely divine feeling, no matter of anything else.  
"...Ummm", the stranger's voice said uncertainly as Saar didn't move at all. He couldn't and didn't want to.  
He just wanted to lay there and let his body to relax.

The woman however grabbed his shoulders hesitantly, carefully and slowly turning him around but still making the Orsimer groan from pain. With one eye Saar looked at the woman's shadowed face. He could sense uncertainty from her, her hands still and she not moving at first.  
Saar wasn't sure what was the problem here. Was she helping or going to kill him? Or something else?  
Just a moment she was killing Forsworns and now she was hesitating with a half-dead, naked bandit? She was looking for him after all, asking his identity, and it could only mean she was after the bounty of his head.  
Saar was too tired to care now if she was going to kill him. Would be just good, he was in crappy state now...

Guess he had lost his consciousness for a moment there.  
Orc's head was resting against the woman's fur covered lap, his body covered with a cloak and she was sitting while offering a potion to Saar's lips. The smell reveled it to be a health potion.  
The Orsimer frowned in confusion, looking up at the archer who glanced between him and the almost fully tilted bottle.  
"Ah!" she said and hold the potion up. "It's not poisoned, it's a health potion. I- I thought it would be good for you? You... Um, seem pretty beaten up?"  
Saar frowned more at the whole thing. Her soft, honest and unsure attitude and the attempt to help him.  
Placing other hand against Saar's shaven head she tried to offer the potion again, tentatively placing the flask against his thin, dried and closed lips.  
Not sure what was the game she was playing, Saar however opened his mouth and let the stranger pour slowly the bitter content that the Orsimer drunk slowly at first.  
Then a bit more eagerly, bitter tasting and water or not but he was thirsty.  
The magic immediately started to work as soothing, warm tingling spread to every wound and pain in his body. It also soothed the reaction body has when it suddenly after constant denial gets something to drink or eat in big amount and fast.

The stranger put away the empty small flask, placing both of her hands either side of Saar's head. Just holding them there, fingers lightly touching the stubble of the Orsimer's head.  
It was a strange, calm gesture. The whole situation was strange.  
If the woman was a mercenary, they sure as Oblivion didn't do this kind of thing to their targets. Or was she a sadist, just worse than Forsworns, by being first nice and then bad?  
...Despite his thoughts Saar didn't think that was the thing here. He had met some shady, bad and cunning people in his life and this one didn't appear like one. Or she was just that good. She still had killed a whole camp of Forsworn quickly.  
Swallowing, spreading the moisture inside his mouth Saar finally asked with a raspy voice. Talking was hard but he needed to know.  
"Why... Are you looking... For me?"  
The woman tilted her head.  
"So you are Saar?"  
He nodded slightly, feeling the movement making his skin connect with the cool fingertips against the sides of his head.  
"Oh, well, I'm here for the", she hesitated for a moment, pulling away her hands to sides like just noticing them touching him. "For the bounty of you. So you really are Saar? I wasn't sure but..."

If he had not been naked under the cloak against cold stone with wounds and pain that potion hadn't yet healed, dead Forsworns around, hungry and thirsty and tired...  
Saar would have started laughing.


	2. Innocent mercenary and brute bandit

Instead of laughing Saar coughed, the health potion only healing completely the minor wounds and then improving the deeper ones. The amusement lingered in his mind as his mouth corners were elevated.  
After a moment or two the woman, who densely looked away from him and back, suggested they move into the camp and near its lighted campfire. The wounded Orc was not sure about moving just yet, but getting to sit near a fireplace instead of laying on cold stone was tempting enough.

The transition didn't go easily nor comfortably, the Orsimer's muscles trembling and almost giving out constantly and he quickly got exhausted. It surprised and terrified at the same time what state he was in. The woman helped the Orsimer by walking beside him, having his left arm over her shoulders and so supported his advancing. The woman wasn't short, but not remarkably tall compared to Saar so he had to bent in somewhat awkward way. To the stranger's credit, she didn't stagger even a little under the mer's weight. And despite of his present state he was not a frail Orc.  
The shock of his state also inspired anger to spike up, though Saar had no energy nor choice to act by it. It was a good thing as, was the woman a mercenary or not, she was his only help.

The stranger aided the Orsimer into the camp, near campfire were soft warmness wrapped around Saar's hurting body.  
He still didn't have full control of himself and so it was difficult to sit upright, or even sit, so the woman eased him into laying position.  
Also he really had enough of sitting for the time.  
The stony ground was also hard here but warm. And the mer was used to the hardness, as a bandit you usually couldn't afford to a bed with good stuffing. The dark cloak that the archer had pulled on Saar was small, but enough to cover his middle and lower body, giving some sense of covering.

After the woman made sure he was laying as comfortably as could, she started to treat him. Going through his wounds, halting at his lower section, then after the examination put down her weapons and backpack.  
Seeing the two handed sword made Saar frown and look again at the woman, as now they were in the light.  
She was average by body, as much as Saar could tell through the heavy armor. She sat next to him, cross legged, and started to pull out potions, rags and a skin flagon as also bandages.  
"Sorry, this might hurt", she said while moisturizing a rag with water from the flagon.  
The big Orsimer was not happy to be treated like this. There was nothing wrong with a woman touching him, but being this weak and without ability to treat himself, showing great weakness, was humiliating.  
Jaw tightening and frown settling deeper to his grey, bearded face he tried to ignore the sting from wounds and the gentle, very light touches the stranger did while cleaning his wounds. Keeping in the groans and winces Saar concentrated to his... Savior's face, as she had pulled down the cloth and the fire lighted them under the animal hide.  
Saar was a bit surprised how young the other one looked.  
She had the face of the Nords, but not as long and thin, but still pretty the common looking one with pale skin and soft cheekbones. There was uneven claw marks on the left side, from forehead to the edge of her wide chin. Curly dark strands fell from under the wolf hide over her eyes, she ignoring them as she acted fast and carefully with his front.  
The eyes were light grey and blue, like a snowstorm, but there was no coldness in them, no sign of the killer nor mercenary who had come after his head and killed the Forsworns effectively.  
Instead, as she was done, she looked at him with open gaze, nervous and gentle at the same time. She lightly scratched the corner of her mouth with one finger.

"Do you have wounds at your back too?" she asked.  
Well, after the ambush he had been roped against the tree trunk so most of the assaults had done to his front. There was really nothing at his backside, only splinters that he had gotten used to.  
So Saar shook his head, feeling again the irritation of being treated. He was an Orsimer warrior, not some elderly nor child. The woman nodded, putting away the rag and then took a small pouch that contained crushed, dried herbs. She started to take the content and rub it into his open wounds.  
This time Saar couldn't hold in and barked angrily as the stuff surprisingly stung like hot needles.  
"Hey!"  
"Sorry."  
The stranger clearly tried to be more gentle, more than she already was, but the stuff still burned, especially at his wide chest as she got it into the knife wounds that had been curved against circling tattoos. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth Saar tried to keep quiet. This wasn't as bad as the torture, he told himself.  
She was trying to help and not make him suffer more, on purpose at least.

After the burning herbs, that after settling just mildly stung, she got behind him with bandages and started to lift his upper body.  
Despite Saar being bigger than an average Orsimer, wide and tall, which he was proud of, the mercenary lifted his torso without a struggle, just like she had helped him into the camp. Well, wielding a two handed sword did require muscles...  
She halted though as he was in the half-sitting pose, and trying to help to keep it made Saar's muscles twist and sweat gather onto his forehead.  
"You said you didn't have any wounds here", the woman said with scolding tone, the first time having other than nervous nor gentle voice.  
"There's not", Saar grunted back, hating to try to keep up when he just wanted to lay down. It was uncomfortably surprising how fast his body had weakened at the hands of the Forsworns. What if they had done something permanent?  
Opening his right eye, the potion taking care of the swelling, Saar still couldn't see clearly with it.  
...Shit.

With a sigh the woman turned him around like nothing, onto his stomach, and started to go through his back.  
"Enough", the Orsimer growled, getting really frustrated with how she just handled him and that he had probably indelible problem in his right eye.  
What if- What if his body had other permanent issues? What if he could not walk or held anything anymore? Had his body been wrecked?  
When the woman didn't stop her act to find every damn splinter from his back with her cool fingers, Saar had it.  
With a growl he strike his left hand to catch the other one's arm.  
The situation wasn't favoring him though as the mercenary instead easily grabbed his hand and twisted it into painful angle, making him snarl harder.  
"I'm helping you."  
"I don't want it", Saar barked back, turning his face to other side and glared up to her. "You want my head, you go ahead. I won't be treated like some handicapped weakling by a girl."  
"Just shut it", she huffed, placing his arm back down and returning to her work on him. "And I'm not a girl, I'm twenty summers old."  
Smirking Saar trifled.  
"But not a woman by being fucked?"  
...After a moment of silent and stillness the mercenary rose and left his side. Frowning the Orc called after her.  
"Oi!"  
She ignored him, leaving him there uncovered on his stomach. The hard, cold ground pained his uncovered wounds, making him a bit regret his words. But it didn't take away his worry. If he really wouldn't at least get his strength back, to walk and do things by himself, he was good as dead. He could try to escape from this rookie of mercenary later on, but if he couldn't even grab onto her...  
Trying to keep himself calm, keep away the scary thought of incapability, Saar tried to listen and see the woman's doings.  
She was dragging bodies into one pile near the cliff, checking them for loot, going through the tents and bringing all the worthy and useful stuff near the fire.  
Ignoring the Orsimer completely.  
Soon getting sick of laying on his chest Saar started to turn over, with slow and uneven progress. His arms shook and layer of sweat formed on him.  
But he finally did it, crashing onto his back and gasping. Despite of the aching it was better to lay on his back.  
After some time, the woman's presence bustling silently around, Saar fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

It was the cruel morning light that woke the Orc this time.

And seeing the clear sky above him, his body not stiff nor bounded, and being covered by a cloak and furs, Saar was puzzled.  
Not sure was he still sleeping or had the last night or the whole prison thing really happened.  
But looking around Saar was still in the empty Forsworn camp, feeling bandages around his body and being warm and covered.  
His body still ached but not badly.  
With cautious hope he tried to move his left hand, curling the fingers and lift the whole arm, doing it with a slight fault. He tried his every limb, everything moving a bit stiffly, the Orsimer next trying to sit up.  
It was still hard but after getting to the position, he could keep at it just fine.  
Relief washed over.  
Although, his right eye's vision was still blurry. But it was better than being completely fucked up.  
Then the Orc remembered the mercenary and looked around, not seeing any sign of her.  
There was however a skin flagon and a health potion next to him, which the flagon he took and immediately emptied into his mouth, drinking it fast with great pleasure. His stomach lurched in response. The potion he was a bit hesitant to take, grimacing to its taste.  
After that Saar looked around again, seeing the body pile on the cliffs edge, but still no sign of the woman.

Had the Nord left him? Why? She had said she was after his bounty and that wouldn't be given without an evidence of him being dead. She doubly wasn't that dumb, even if seemingly new to the mercenary job.

Not yet wanting to move, even if being hungry, Saar laid back and noticed there was furs also under him, secluding from the stony ground.  
Black eyebrows drawn together.  
The Nord was the only one to do all this, care for his wounds, wrap him into covers and leaving the potion and the water.  
It was odd doing.  
Saar had never heard nor experienced any mercenary to be this merciful.  
The girl was very naive and stupid if she thought she could treat her targets like this, giving them every opportunity to use her, surprise and attack her. It was so stupid it almost made Saar uncomfortable to be treated by her, and then making her retreat after his boorish remark.  
If she really had left him behind and alone here, going after some other target, she was surely going to get killed if not killing her targets before they used her kindness against her. Plus she would not get any reward from them. What was her goal or was she just that stupid?  
Hearing footsteps the Orsimer rose back to sit, grimacing after a sharp nausea passed him, and twisted to look with alarm at the comer.  
He had no weapons, so if it was more Forsworns or another mercenary, he was going to die. Throwing the girl's work into the wind.  
The Orsimer was surprised to see the woman instead, walking down the hill with her equipment, carrying couple of rabbits by their hind legs.

Seeing him awake and sitting she also seemed a bit surprised, then smiled.  
"Hi, see you're getting better."  
She sat down on the other side of the campfire, placing the rabbits and her backpack and weapons down, watching him.  
"I was a bit worried you would need more time to recover but guess you'll be able to travel tomorrow already?"  
The Orsimer frowned, lips around his tusks tightening into unsure snarl as he eyed her with confusion.  
"Travel for what?" he asked gruffly. "Where are you taking me?"  
Blinking the mercenary looked back at him.  
"To Riften? Where you have a bounty of your head?"  
"Why?"  
...The woman tilted her head with unsureness.  
"...To have the reward?"  
Saar couldn't believe her, couldn't believe how stupid and careless she was. She was going to get killed with that attitude!  
Rubbing his forehead with one hand, getting a headache from the amazement of this whole thing, Saar felt sorry for the girl.  
"Okay kid", he started, knowing that no-one else was going to tell it to her. She frowned to the name he called her with, but there was bigger problems now. This was so unbelievable it hurt and Saar would really feel like the worst person in the world if he wouldn't say at least something.  
"You are a mercenary, right?"  
She didn't immediately answer before staring at him for a minute, a sign that just made Saar even more alarmed.  
"Yes, I think that's me."  
"No, you're not."  
The woman frowned, tilting her head to side.  
"If you're mercenary, you have to know that you are dealing with dangerous people all the time. People, who are ready to kill you if you just getting the chance to do it."  
Gesturing himself he explained.  
"Treating me, waiting me to get my strength back, not even tying me up... You are just giving me all the opportunities to use your kindness and kill you while your back is turned!"  
Seriously, who had taught this girl or had no-one even done that?! He was a damn bandit and _he_ was lecturing _her_ of how to act as a mercenary. It couldn't be any sadder!  
"But you're an Orsimer", the Nord said and Saar had no idea what she meant by it, glaring at her, so she continued. "You have the code of Malacath? You hold honor above everything else?"  
"And all the Nords are racist drunkards", he bit back and the girl glared now too. The Orsimer was getting really irritated of... Of her innocence! Her ignorance!  
"You have rope?"  
"Yeah?" she said. Grunting he started ordering her around.  
"Take it out and come here... Well? Now!"  
She quickly did as was told, taking out long rope from her backpack and came sitting next to him. Saar hold his hands together and in front of him.  
"Tie my hands, tightly. No, don't wrap around them, they'll get loose and I can slip my hand out. Put the rope between my wrists and wrap it around them, crisscross them and _then_ around them, good, don't waste all the rope, then make a tight knot. Under my wrists so I won't get to it with my mouth. Good, tighter, yes that's good."  
Saar was pleased as the girl followed his instructions, doing a good job without any stupid mistakes.  
"Now this is how you're suppose to do with your targets, if you so eagerly want to haul their asses to the guards. Always keep a lot of rope with you, or even shackles would be better."  
The Nord woman kept nodding, fully listening to him. She didn't have the wolf hide's head on, her shoulder length curlies waving around her. They were very dark brown, almost looked black during last night. She tugged some strands behind her ear as she looked at him and his tied hands.  
"Then what?" she asked and Saar opened his mouth.  
Then shut it as he understood like a dumb what he had just done to himself. Looking down at his bounded hands.  
Then at the girl who was _smiling_. And holding in laugh.  
It took a moment for Saar to really understand, that he really had made the girl tie his hands into a tight packet. And she knew it, holding in her laugh while biting her lower lip, corners high up.  
The Orsimer growled, darkness crossing his face  
"...Untie me."  
"No."

* * *

The Orsimer was sulking while he laid on the pile of furs, next to the campfire that the mercenary had lightened up. The Nord was frying the skinned rabbits on the other side.  
Now and then the Orc, whose hands were bounded in front of him, glared at the woman. And whenever she looked up and their eyes met, she bit her lip and her shoulders started shaking.  
Snarling curtly Saar turned to his other side, his back to her.  
The stu- Fucking- She was a clever girl, that she was! Acting all innocent and making him feel sorry for her, teach her just to put himself into a deeper crap. How stupid you can be!?  
Saar heard the woman getting up and walking around the campfire, then saw her metal boots in his field of view.  
"The meat is ready."  
He didn't budge, nor looked up.  
"...Want me to feed it to you?"  
Quick glance.  
She was blushing while smirking, holding a cooked rabbit in a stick. Seeing the meat, feeling his mouth watering, Saar swallowed. Getting up he hold his hands out to have it, the woman giving the food and then walked back to her spot on the other side of the fireplace.  
They both ate in silence.  
Then the Nord's voice broke it.  
"I don't think it was fair", she started and was for a moment quiet. So long that, getting curious, Saar turned around to look at the mercenary. She looked back, the rabbit on stick lowered from her mouth. "I had heard you had moved with some other bandits towards here, and after finding your dead comrades I tracked you down."  
Saar dug his sharp teeth in and ripped a slice of meat, listening to the girl.  
"Then I finally saw you, near the edge, bounded and the asshole waving a torch at you. Then he just started kicking you, just like that. It wasn't fair."  
She looked down, then at the pile of bodies, her voice low.  
"You were already bounded and wounded. There was no reason to. So, even if you think it's stupid, I don't want to be the one kicking someone already down. It's not right."  
Swallowing Saar chuckled dryly, keeping his gaze down.  
"There's nothing fair in this world, girl. Don't know how secured life you had before starting this play of mercenary, but people are not fair. If you don't act so that you're always first and in better position than others, you just loose."

The Orsimer's dark eyes looked at the woman.  
"You want to keep alive and safe, you drop that innocence. You'll just get killed with it."  
He was surprised to see seriousness in her face after his words. The open look in her eyes turning into solid chilliness as she kept staring back at him.  
"I know", she spoke evenly. "People die all the time, everyday. But I think it's important what we leave behind when we die. Family or something else. So, I don't want to die and leave people, who I could have helped or treat fairly, to continue their lives without a single happy memory."  
...Snorting Saar continued his eating.

* * *

Despite of the grim subject of their died conversation, the Nord was curious of the Orsimer, glancing now and then from under the wolf hide's hood.  
She had seen Orcs before, but only in battlefield, when they attacked with ramming force and bellowing angrily at her. They had such an angry beast like faces when they laid dead on the ground. Maybe it was the tusks, the most noticeable features at them in first sight.  
Though they were a race to be natural born warriors and smiths, she had heard from a friend that there was an Orsimer as librarian in College of Winterhold. So they were not so beast like as commonly was painted of them.  
And they had the code of Malacath, even though some Orc bandits didn't live by it. But in other hand, not every Nord was honorable warrior or every Altmer wise nor Khajit a merchant.

The female warrior had taken this Orsimer's bounty letter because he wasn't someone too dangerous but neither too pitiful to be taken down. He was a regular bandit, had killed and robbed people on the roads. It had been tricky to find him.  
And when she finally trailed the dead bandits on the road and followed the tracks here, he hadn't seem like the regular brutish orc as she had waited to see. Or that's not what she first saw.  
The Nord had not waited to see him in just a pitiful state, tied up and tortured. Seeing the Forsworn waving a torch to the Orsimer's face had angered the woman enough to immediately start attacking the Forsworn camp.  
It had been stupidly risky, now that she thought about it. Aela would have smacked her head for being such a reckless pup...  
But she hadn't done it to be reckless!  
They were cruel to him and even if he was a bandit, he was tied down and already clearly in a bad shape. And if she could do something to stop it, she would do it. Again too.  
It had been actually sad how someone so burly and tall like him was in such a weak state. His right tusk had been broken from its middle, his unusual grayish skin carver and covered by bruises and different fresh, untreated wounds. His other eye, that had been swollen shut before she had given the potion, was misty and so probably didn't have a sight anymore in it.

Such cruelty angered her.  
If Forsworns were about getting their lands and freedom back, why were they so cruel? If their cause demanded of acting like this, kicking the wounded and weak, she wasn't going to support them in any way...

Looking at the eating Orsimer she was interested of his tattoos that covered almost his whole upper body and arms. Black ink against his grey skin, the patterns swirling and curling endlessly. There was small symbols, sharply formed, between the thick lines.  
Had it hurt to have the tattoos? They seemed to be permanent, not like warpaint, not washing or rubbing off as she had cleaned his wounds and then covered them with bandages.  
She had never seen an Orc with grey skin like Dunmer's, just various types of green.  
With the tattoos, his large build and the thick black beard that covered the sides of his face from ear to ear, made the Orsimer look like a furious warrior. His almost dark looking brown eyes under heavy brows when he frowned and looked at her made her shy.  
Like now, as he looked back at her, right now.  
The Nord blushed deeply when noticing Saar staring right back her wandering gaze.

"What's you ogling at, huh?" he growled like an angry bear.  
"Nothing", she muttered and looked down at her cooked rabbit, taking a large bite from it. He was grumpy and a bandit. And a bit silly, tricking himself to be tied like that. The memory almost shook another wave of laugh from the young warrior.  
She shouldn't be nice to him, really. He was a criminal. A murderer. A thief.  
But as one thief had once told her, not everything is so black and white, wrong and right. Sometimes things are far more complicated than you see.  
Though even if Saar had his reasons to do criminal things, he was still a criminal. And she was going to walk him to Riften and get him punished.  
And she would get the prove of her capability to do things on her own.  
This was not personal, just work.  
But it didn't mean she should act meanly nor cruelly towards Saar.

* * *

On the next day, after some more resting, gathering things up and the sun still up on the sky, the Nord said they should start the journey. If he wasn't still too weak.  
The question irritated more than it was meant to, probably not at all, but it challenged Saar to get up. The small cloak and the furs slipped off of him.  
He looked at the woman whose face was reddening as he stood there.  
A smirk formed as he understood what flustered the woman so.  
"Gonna watch my bear ass the whole way to Rift?"  
Seeing those bluish eyes widening and her mouth gaping amused greatly the naked Orsimer. Even more when she stammered.  
"S- Shu- No!" the so-called-mercenary baffled and dropped her backpack, turning towards the pile of things she had gathered from the tents and the dead Forsworns.  
Saar noticed his armor being there. And his weapons.  
Glancing from the searching woman to his things the Orc decided to try his luck.  
"My armor is there", he pointed out casually. "The biggest pieces and made from metal."  
The mercenary glanced at the only metal armor pieces among the Forsworns' fur suits.  
"And there's my weapons too", Saar added.  
Two one-handed weapons, one axe and one sword.  
Looking at him with squinted eyes, the wolf cloak's hood shadowing upper half of her face, the woman declared.  
"You need only your armor."  
Huffing with amusement Saar didn't object, though a bit disappointed. At least she was not as stupid as he thought.

But how was he going to get the armor on him? His hands were bound. Another sly smirk formed to the mer's rugged face. The Nord seemed to know the problem too when she carried the pieces to him, dropping them to the stony ground. She looked up to him uncertainly.  
Enjoying every glance, blush and stammer he inspired in her Saar leaned downwards to her, and said in low, softly growling voice.  
"Well, how are you gonna put it on me?"  
For a moment Saar thought he had gone too far, as the woman pulled out a dagger and slashed with it. She however only cut his ropes, freeing his hands with one swipe and putting the weapon away she turned and walked to her backpack.  
"Put it on by yourself", she snarled, not looking at him and keeping her back towards him as she waited.  
Staring at the little spitfire Saar took a moment to swallow down the surprising feeling. For a moment he had been scared, and then impressed, yet again, by the mercenary's skills.  
He almost forget how innocent she was.  
"You got three minutes, then we'll walk. You naked or not", she called and the Orsimer started putting things on him.

* * *

The Orc was a brute! And an idiot! And ungrateful!  
She had rescued him, taken care of him and he was still alive and yet he acted like a- Well, like a bandit, which he was.  
The Nord growled to herself.  
The Orc was right, she was acting too nice. Maybe that's why she still wasn't allowed to do quests on her own...  
But... She couldn't help it. Though Saar acted like a moron, was a criminal, when ever she looked at him she...  
There was some good in him. He wasn't completely evil, she could see that. Or maybe that was what Aela usually said that she was too nice to people sometimes, believed in them too easily. And as a warrior that could be fatal.

Sighing heavily the woman scratched a corner of her mouth, looking at the hill that they had to walk up and down to get to the road and start heading towards the Rift.  
It would be many weeks, especially if the Orsimer needed often stop to rest. And they needed to take the route through Falkreath.  
Hearing now moving metal and heavy steps behind the Nord turned around and looked.

It wasn't consistent set he had, the pieces were from different heavy armor sets, nothing high quality nor well kept, and he used hide boots.  
The unmatched armor made him look like a real high skilled bandit though.  
Scowling the woman hold out the rest of the rope she had.  
"Now, put your hands together in front of you", she ordered with a slight smile as she did _just as he had_ _taught_ her.

And after that the two were ready to start their journey, both gladly leaving the Forsworn camp behind.


	3. Cruelty and kindness

**Jean-Moddalle:** Thank you so much for your comment, really! And yes, Saar really isn't an orc name, for a reason. But it was funny to notice later on, when I was doing a quest, the connection with his name and Saarthal's. And I am happy you like the story, hopefully it won't disappoint you later on. Thank you for your review.

And thank you **TheUnholyMessiah** for favoring the story.

Hopefully you'll enjoy!

* * *

Walking down the tall forest hill towards the main road at the bottom of the valley proceeded slowly.  
You had to watch your steps, because one collapse could mean a long, long rolling down and also a possibility of flying over of the many high ledges that spread over the hill.  
The bandit walked beforehand while the mercenary followed behind.  
As his hands were bound in front, Saar couldn't effectively balance himself. And he was getting tired. Couple nights and days of sleeping and few health potions wasn't enough after all. Walking didn't pain anymore but it exhausted him quickly.  
Luckily the woman with a crossbow, that's she called the thing, wasn't rushing him, she stopping and letting him rest against a tree whenever he needed to.

"So..." she started during one of the rests, the lightly panting Orsimer glancing.  
"How did you end up as a bandit?"  
Huffing dryly Saar looked away, studying the downhill. The main road was visible but still faraway. Still had a lot to hike down.  
"Just a bunch of stupid mistakes and decisions", he gave the short answer. Then pushed himself away from the tree and continued walking. The mercenary wasn't satisfied though.  
"What kind of mistakes and decisions?"  
"Those kind of that turns you into a bandit", he growled and over his shoulder glared at the Nord. "If you think that I'm gonna tell you my-"  
"Saar!"  
Suddenly the whole world spun for a short, quick moment, the big Orc crashing and rolling down before a young and thick juniper tree stopped him.  
Dazed Saar blinked and didn't move at first. He could hear the mercenary's shouts and rushing steps over his thundering heart.  
"Saar! Are you alright?"  
"I'm fine", he mumbled, moving his bounded arms under to push himself up. Wasn't so easy, and without even asking the woman put her hands on him to help.  
Anger flared inside the Orc, pride hurt for being this weak and needing help.  
"Off", he snarled, shrugging aggressively the hands away. She obeyed, stepping away as the Orsimer with some struggle got himself up without any help. Standing up he glared hard at the confused woman.  
"You think you fool anyone?" the Orsimer felt the anger inside him just getting stronger. "You think that playing nice makes you good? How many have you killed or sent to death already, huh?! You're nothing but a pretender, so stop playing naive and pretending like you yourself don't do anything wrong! You're a fucking mercenary, killing for money!"  
The shock that rose to the reddened face of the girl gave some satisfaction. Though there was something foul in it, like always what ever Saar did when he was angry and slashing around. Seeing tears before the woman looked down, the wolf's head shadowing her eyes, made the Orsimer snort with a sneer.  
"You ain't non better than me."  
"Shut up."  
Halting the Orc glared at the woman who still kept her face downwards. The Nord was shaking, gripping onto her weapon against her chest.  
Saar waited but she didn't continue.  
"What?"  
Taking a deep breath the woman finally spoke.  
"I'm- I'm not nice cause I'm playing", she denied, not convincing the Orc at all. "I just- Would it be better then, if I would be an asshole towards you?"  
"...It would be more real than you coddling me like we were companions or something. You are walking me to Riften to get my head chopped off, after all."  
To that the woman didn't find anything to say back. After all, that was that would happen when Saar would walk through the gates and guards would take him.  
Not just because he was a bandit, but because of his other mistakes he had done there as a stupid brat. They surely hadn't forget.  
That's why he needed to escape from this stupid girl at some point, keep staying out of law's reach.  
In that case, maybe he shouldn't beat the girl up with his words so much. Give him opportunities to flee.  
But Saar couldn't help it how much the mercenary's stupidly innocent, naive and pretending attitude pissed him off.

Turning around the Orsimer continued walking, hearing the mercenary following behind after a moment.

* * *

Swallowing silently, cursing the tears in her eyes the woman quickly wiped them away and continued following the bandit down the hill.  
...She wasn't playing. Nor coddling anyone. She wasn't pretending anything.  
She had killed because if she hadn't, they would have killed her. She didn't act mean if they didn't act cruelly towards her or others. She didn't trust or act kindly towards those who she knew weren't worth of it.  
She just...  
She didn't want to be a bad person.  
She didn't want to be the one who hurts others without a reason, give pain just because. That was horrible, hurting others for pleasure. Forcing to do horrible things and causing fear and pain on others and then-!  
Swallowing again and wiping more tears away she looked the back of the Orsimer.

Saar was a bandit, had hurt a lot of people. But did he enjoy of it? Did he do it to survive? She wasn't pitying him, she wasn't going to let him go if he would show regret, he needed to be punished for what he had done. But to her it didn't mean she should bully him all the way to Riften. She could kill him and take his head, it would be easier, but... Her instincts told not to.  
He wasn't a bad man, she could see it.  
He had taught her how to tie him when thinking she didn't know how. He acted now and then brutely, but not so badly like some others. He was more grumpy and proud than anything sinister.  
So no. She didn't see a reason in acting towards him badly.  
She didn't pretend, she just acted like she would want anyone act towards her if she was hurt. He was wrong.  
You can be nice, even if you were a bounty hunter.

* * *

Finally they started to be down the hill, the main road close. The thick forest suddenly turned into more bare hill, just large stones and few bushes and trees here and there.  
Anxious Saar decided to act now. Stopping he leaned against a tree, looking down at his feet.  
"Hey", he called the woman. "I think something's wrong with my left leg."  
The Nord came in front of him.  
"What do you mean?" she asked while crouching, looking at his leg.  
"It's-" he kicked the mercenary on her shoulder, pushing her backwards and sending her rolling down.

The Orsimer turned to aside and started running towards the main road away from the falling woman. He needed to be fast. Just outrun and lose her. There were a lot of hiding places in the Reach's plains and hills where there was a lot of caves and large abysses-  
Hearing, or rather _feeling,_ something passing the side of his bald head Saar saw an arrow flying pass him and sinking into a tree ahead.  
"Get back!"  
Cursing the Orc put more speed into his legs, keeping his head down.  
"Saar! Stop, now!"  
She wouldn't shoot him. She wouldn't shoot him. She was too nice to-  
Instincts screaming Saar tugged down and felt how the next arrow scraped the back of his armor as he barely dodged it.  
Now it was yet again his turn to fall down the rest of the hill, nothing stopping his rolling this time.

Down at the road, where the ground turned into horizontal, Saar didn't hesitate to get up and continue running. Despite of aching and tiredness, he was determined to escape. Or get killed while trying!  
He just didn't think it would happen sooner than later.  
There was a troll on the road, right in front of him.  
And turning its ugly head and then rest of its body towards him the beast started roaring and jumping in place. Saar cursed his poor luck that just didn't seem to stop.  
A troll wouldn't be so much of a problem if he had his weapons and was in his full power. Not bounded and panting heavily from little running.  
The troll started charging towards, its multi-eyes staring with darkness and sharp yellow teeth bared.  
Saar stood his ground and roared his own challenge, reading himself. But what he could possibly fight with or at least protect himself?  
The hairy beast was fast at him, Saar taking couple of sharp steps away as the troll swung its other arm widely like a club.

The Orsimer barely avoided the hit that surely would have knocked him unconscious and more. He fell onto his ass and quickly reacting rolled to aside to avoid the bounding fists.  
Curses flying from his mouth Saar rolled onto his back and stared up at the bloodthirsty monster. It roared at him, raising its other fist again.  
Then, it screamed in agony, as an arrow pierced one of its bigger black eyes and instead of bounding the laying Orismer, who had raised his arms as a shield, it clutched on the object that was hurting it.  
Glancing behind Saar saw the mercenary, her crossbow lifted and aiming at the troll. Relief washed over him.  
Then vanished as the Nord yelled at him, he hearing over the troll's howling pain.  
"Say you're sorry!"  
"What!?"  
The troll trashed around, swinging its arms as it moved towards the Orsimer who started kicking himself away from the beast.  
"Say you. Are. Sorry!" the woman repeated angrily, not sending another arrow.  
Saar couldn't believe this, her. She was demanding _now_ apologize from him?  
"Why!?"  
"Because that will kill you if you don't!"  
Jaw tightening and eyes squinting Saar yelled back.  
"No!"  
"So you wanna die?!"  
"Sorry for what?"  
The flat ground started to turn into a uphill as Saar kept moving away from the raging creature, which seem like starting to focus on him despite of the arrow still sticking from its right eye. Fuc- Stupid woman, just shoot it!  
"Take back what you said about me being pretender, now!"  
Crawling backwards now up the hill the Orsimer shouted angrily.  
"Fine, I take everything back! I'm sorry! Now shoot it!"

The woman finally shot another arrow into the troll's other shoulder which arm was raised over Saar. The hit staggered the beast.  
"Hey!"  
The troll turned its attention away from the cowering creature on the ground and towards the approaching one. Dropping her shooting weapon to hang from a waist belt the mercenary pulled out her two-handed sword. Walking towards the roaring foul beast the woman took couple of quick steps and brought her sword down with force. Cutting deep the troll's chest and next swiped the creature's head off.  
The thing fell first to its knees and then crashed down to the ground.  
The Orsimer stared at the dead beast before looking up to the Nord. She looked pissed, huffing and holding the long sword like going to hack him next.  
"Get up", she snarled and grumbling the Orc obeyed. But as soon as he stood, she strode over and kicked him back down.  
"Hey!"  
"That's for kicking me!" she yelled back. "And this is the third time I save you, you welcome!"  
"Third?!" Saar wondered as he, cautiously and taking a step back, stood back up.  
"Forsworn, your wounds and now that troll!" the Nord pointed the dead thing with her blade. "Three times."  
"Well... I didn't ask to", he kept arguing back.  
The blade's edge was against his neck before he could even react. The stormy eyes gave him daunting stare.  
"You wanna die now?"

Silence kept lengthening between the glaring two, the mercenary's hold on her sword not wavering nor the bandit's challenging posture faltering.  
"...No. I don't."  
Lowering her long sword the mercenary kept staring up to him. It didn't matter if she was shorter than him, it felt like she was staring at him like they were somehow even. Saar didn't let his scowl change though even if he saw with half-blurred vision the woman's look softening somewhat. She lowering her chin and looking from under the hide while asking more calmly.  
"Did the troll hurt you?"  
Huffing, shaking his head he couldn't understand her. Just a second she was ready to let him die and now she was acting like she cared. Didn't fool him.  
"No", he answered gruffly.

She put the weapon back into its sheath. A happy, small smile formed onto the mercenary's face, her gaze warm and open.  
"Good."  
...Nodding, Saar turned towards the Riften's direction. Feeling his heart nervously fluttering as he walked around the dead troll and the woman right behind him.  
Sweet, innocent little thing.  
Didn't fool him.


	4. Duck and roll

**Frito Bandito:** Thank you, I shall try. **  
Jean-Moddalle:** Maybe later, still need him to stick around. Thank you for commenting.

Hopefully you'll enjoy!

* * *

Spending couple of hours in sullen silence after Saar's attempt to escape, which included kicking the mercenary and her saving him from a troll, the two didn't do much talking.  
Not when the Orsimer stopped to rest nor when the Nord gestured to walk again. There was just walking and silence between them.  
And the Reach's nature around, so not much to see.  
Most of the Reach is just bare hills, plains and rock because of its rugged ground which wasn't fertile. Only tough vegetation like juniper trees and animals like goats or sabre cats survived here. The only simple source of water around was the river that run at the bottom of the deep rift, which snaked through the whole region.

Glancing at the river on their left and then the uphill on their right Saar sighed unhappily. Didn't have much of opportunities to escape at the moment. Maybe he'll wait till they were out of the Reach's plains and see again if the environment would favor him.  
Until then he would just let the Nord do all the work while he rested. Get her relaxed to think he would be a timid Orc all the way to Riften.  
A wolf howled in the distance over the other side of the rift, a bird song as it fly over them and the river's running could be heard roaring below.  
The midday was already gone but it was several hours till the sun would even start getting down.  
Until then the mercenary probably wanted them to keep walking.  
...Very few clouds were on the sky...  
The Orsimer sighed again. He was getting bored of this.  
With his perished bandit companions Saar would have been talking crap and fooling around, searching for a good place to create their hideout and start robbing people on the road. Though it was clear now that traveling to the Reach was a mistake, bloody Forsworns.  
...Hopefully those madmen wouldn't ambush them too on the road. Though maybe the Orsimer could use it as distraction and shag off.  
But it felt way too risky and the possibility to be Forsworns' prisoner again didn't appeal at all.

Unsurprisingly it was the mercenary who first broke the long silence. In a way the bandit was some happy for the disturbance in the dull marching.  
The subject just could be something else. _Anything_ else.

"Saar doesn't sound like Orsimer's name?" the woman questioned behind him.  
The Orsimer snorted.  
"You know lot of Orcs then?"  
"...No?"  
Over his shoulder with mocking look he replied.  
"Then how do you know Saar isn't an Orc's name?"  
The Nord looked away with slight blush over her cheeks. Mumbling something.  
"What's that?" Saar called while looking where he was stepping.  
"Nothing. So... You are not from Stronghold?"  
Making growling voice of annoyance Saar didn't bother to answer. It didn't stop the girl from asking.

"I just thought, as you don't have a last name."  
"No."  
"Then where do you come from?"  
A smirk widened onto his grey face.  
"From your mom."  
The stunned silence that followed made the Orsimer snicker.  
"...You are an ass."  
"Oh really?" the Orc stopped and turned around, standing at his full height as the woman walked to him with slight snarl on her face. He tilted his head with a smile.  
"And what makes you think that, girl?"  
And as they were now stopping why not rest a bit.  
"How about you?" Saar started questioning in turn. "You awfully want to know things about me, but I don't know much about you. What's _you_ _r_ story? What's your name even?"  
"...Ulv."  
Raising one brow the Orc waited but as she didn't correct herself... If she thinks he was going to answer _and_ truthfully to any of her questions then she was dead wrong after that.  
"You're a bad liar."  
She reddened and scratched the side of her mouth.  
"It is Ulv." she insisted.  
"Sound's like a man's and lie's name. What's so secret about your name?"  
"Why should I tell it to you? What would you do with my name?"  
Scoff of unbelieving colored the Orsimer's gaze: "What do you do with any information of me then?"  
"I want to understand."  
"Understand what?! That how an Orc ends up as a bandit? Well I'll tell you: because of people see us different from them! You're just so curious about me just because of my race, isn't it? If I was a Bosmer or Altmer would you be so interested? If you're _so_ keen to know of Orcs, why don't you just visit a Stronghold or something?"

The woman's voice also started to raise.  
"Why are you so grumpy of me asking? I'm not making fun of you, I just want to understand! Isn't that better than just assuming?"  
The Orsimer laughed hard and mockingly.  
"You really are clueless brat! Answer is that people don't like Orcs! Nor Khajits. Especially Nords are eager to make that clear. Ask any Nord and you hear the same: Orcs and Khajits and Argonians are just two legged filthy beasts!"  
"Well I'm a Nord and I don't think like that!"  
"Oh really?!"  
"Yeah really! I have Khajits and Argonians as friends! I don't know any Orcs only because I haven't met them outside my quests, where I only meet those who are bandits and ready to kill me! So _apologizes_ if I-!"  
Absurdly stopping in mid sentence and heated argument the mercenary turned her head and listened silently.  
Looking also at the direction they had walked from Saar did the same.  
...Nothing, just wildlife.  
But the woman's reaction unnerved the Orsimer who could only think that Forsworns were around. He was tired but if those people were around, he was ready to fully run.  
"What is it?" he finally hissed and the mercenary gestured to be quiet. Then, before he was going to demand again, she said: "We have to hide, now."  
Giving a quick glance Saar whispered.  
"And where? We are middle of nowhere!"  
"Just keep walking and fast", the Nord started pushing him to turn and walk forward.

* * *

The mercenary was looking from left to right to see any place where she and Saar could hide in and quickly.  
What she heard was footsteps, but also something smaller running on four legs. They were walking behind them but what she was worried was the dog with them.  
If it would sense them then it surely would alarm its companions to them.  
It could be just other travelers, adventures or mercenaries but she didn't hear anything from them that she was familiar of. The clattering she heard was like coming from small bones... Not a positive sign.  
"Is it Forsworns?" the Orsimer asked as they kept half-running forward side by side.  
"I'm not sure", she said silently. "But I don't like how they sound."  
She ignored the Orc's confused look.  
"Just keep moving", she muttered.

A bit of ahead there was a small path diverging from the main road down to the rift. There was no way telling what was down the narrow path.  
But that had to do. There was only deep rift with a river on their left and long uphill on their right so it would take too much time to run up and find a good hiding spot there.  
Pointing at her founding the mercenary run ahead, hearing the Orsimer panting behind.  
Running down the path the woman however suddenly stopped as she heard sounds coming also from there. Sounded like there was a camp at the end of it, small, and there were people too.  
Good or bad? Where the same as the ones behind? Maybe they wouldn't be hostile?  
"Why we stopped?" the Orsimer growled as he tried to catch his breath next to her.  
"There's people down there too", she explained, looking behind them. They couldn't back up, the ones behind were closing in.  
"I'm not hearing anything", the mer said, clearly trying to hear what she was. "Are you screwing with me?"  
"No- Crap, let's keep going", taking a hold of the big orc's arm the mercenary pulled. But he didn't budge, glaring down at her.  
"Now!" she growled, hardening her grip. She heard them clearer now!  
"I am not-"

* * *

Saar was not sure was this girl sane after all, she hearing someone approaching them that he didn't hear nor see.  
But now he heard it, faintly. Someone was yelling something in the distance, at the road they had walked off, and then dog's barking that started getting closer and fast.  
Brows drawing over his eyes the Orsimer looked at the mercenary.  
"How-"  
"Now will we go?"  
"But you said there's people down there too?"  
"Maybe they are not bad."  
"And the people coming after us are?"  
"Then what we do?!"  
"I don't know!"

The two of them heard and watched as a grey, big mutt appeared from the main road to the path.  
It had a leather collar with bird skulls and feathers on it. The dog barked angrily when seeing them, running towards.  
Cursing the mercenary lifted her crossbow and shot at the beast but he dog was fast, avoiding the arrow and kept running towards them.  
Dropping her weapon the woman pulled out a dagger and readied to stab the beast to death.  
However, then the dog's masters arrived and they where Forsworns, fur armors on with bone ornaments and seeing them one readied their bow as other one was ready to throw a spear.  
The spear holding one gave a command and the dog stopped, barking with bared teeth at the dagger holding Nord and hands bounded Orsimer.  
The Forsworns started slowly approach them, one's arrow pointing at the mercenary while the other was ready to throw their spear at the bandit.

That's when Saar lunged to aside, jumping towards the rift and its river.  
Grasping onto the Nord's backpack he pulled her along.  
The Orsimer wasn't sure why he did it, taking the surprised woman with him. Maybe as a meat shield if the Forsworns would shoot? Maybe because even if the woman was a mercenary and taking him to Riften, she didn't deserve what the Madmen would do to her?  
Whatever the reason was, they were rolling down. Again.  
Saar really was having enough of the Reach and its hills, cliffs and all things you can roll down!

Over a ledge they flew and dropped down into the roaring river of the Reach.  
The impact hitting onto the water knocked them both out of air, separated them and the current pulled them with it.  
Gasping Saar fought against panic inside, knowing it would make his flowing worse, especially with his armor. He needed to relax and not fight against the current that pulled him. Getting onto his back the Orsimer adjusted to the river's flowing, which wasn't easy with bounded hands but he was experienced with surviving in a water.  
Just had to be calm and not fight the current. Soon Saar noticed that...  
...He didn't see the Nord.  
Looking around the Orc tried to find the woman over the waves. Feeling slippery coldness running against his backbone when not seeing.  
...Had he killed her? Pulling with him into the river? That hadn't been the intention when he escaped from the Forsworns with her.  
Saar suddenly went under the surface as something rammed onto his back, pushing him under and then rolling over him. Under the surface the Orsimer saw a body.  
Eyes widening he automatically grabbed onto the body before it moved out of his reach.  
Getting himself back up, gasping for breath the Orsimer instinctively pulled the smaller body over him, holding from the wolf hide on them, as he tried to float on his back.  
Keeping the mercenary close to him Saar noticed her being limp and none responding, her eyes closed.  
His muscles were starting to wore out, after long walking, jumping and now working to keep himself and the other alive in the running river.  
Closing his mouth, as the current pulled them both for a moment under the surface, the Orsimer started looking for any kind of place to rise from the river. In either side it was too steep and the current was getting faster, with that and weakening muscles it was harder to stay afloat.  
He could let the woman go and on his own more likely survive.  
The wolf hide that the woman wore was slipping off of her anyway, as he hold onto it and her.

Peeking over the woman the Orsimer heard and then saw how the water rose some and foamed ahead.  
A waterfall.  
...Did he anger some god with something he had recently done? First Forsworns, the mercenary and now a waterfall?  
Apparently he had, as if like a sign the wolf hide came off from the Nord and she started slipping from him.  
Cursing Saar let go of the stupid animal hide and tried to catch the woman but her armor's back was slippery. Without him she would drift at the current's mercy and certainly drown. Because he had pulled her with him.  
In the moment of panic, not able to free his arms to put them around her, the Orsimer bit down into the Nord's shoulder. Where the armor's collar showed the cloth beneath and the soft flesh of her neck.  
Saar tried not to bite to draw out blood but he had tusks, thick and from their tips sharp. Or the intact one was, the broken tusk's tip was rugged.  
He first only faintly tasted the tone of blood before he wrapped his lips around the woman's skin to keep water from getting into his mouth.  
He tasted the blood clearly now, though trying not to drink it. Needed to concentrate to survive here.  
Though, was he strong enough to pull them both through the waterfall? Kicking Saar tried to steer towards the river's right bank. It didn't help, just wasted his energy.  
The waterfall was right in front of them. The current was pulling strongly them to it.  
Closing his dark brown eyes Saar prepared for the mauling. At least he tried to save them both, not just abandoning her to save himself.  
That would be the few things he wouldn't regret in his life at least.

...Well. He felt himself stupid. Rather much. Really silly.  
How should have he known, that there wasn't one but two waterfalls one after the other? And that the water was as shallow between them as drunk's mead in tankard's bottom?  
After the small drop the big Orsimer had no trouble to stand up, walk himself and with his hands pull the woman to the river bank with no problem.  
With sour expression the wet, panting Orc laid the woman onto her back and started pressing down her chest with his palms in rhythm.  
Soon water poured out of her mouth, she started coughing violently and instinctively turned onto her side to empty her lungs.

* * *

She coughed like she never had, feeling like she was coughing her guts out and feeling warm, bitter fluid coming out from deep inside of her.  
When there was no more strange liquid inside to get rid off, her body calmed down. But it was tired and hurt.  
The Nord draw in deep breaths, kept laying on her side and felt wet to the bone. Her shoulder was aching like someone had stug her with a dagger.  
That crazy bastard, what was he thinking?! She could have drowned, she didn't know how to swim!

Opening her eyes she looked up the Orsimer who was sitting next to her on the gravel ground. He was catching his breath, shoulders rising and falling, bound hands resting against bent knees. He glanced down at her.  
From this angle... He looked big. He was bigger than her even when they stood side by side, the top of her head reaching a bit under his chest. Now as the mercenary laid on her side next to him, she felt somewhat... Intimidated.  
In a weird excited way that she didn't have energy to study more closely now.  
Pushing herself up, grimacing from hurt left shoulder the woman looked at the running river in front of them.  
"Saved you this time", the Orsimer spoke. "Now I own just two favors to you."  
The silver blue eyes squinted as she slowly turned her face towards and up to him.  
"You pulled me in."  
The Orc shrugged.  
"Better the river than the Forsworns. Trust me."  
"I can't swim." the Nord explained as she reached to lift the armor's shoulder part to see what had nicked her. She frowned when seeing two bleeding, two thumbs' thick wholes in her. "But thanks... Anyway..."  
"Oh, those came as I couldn't take a hold of you. Had to bite into you, nothing personal. Sorry about that."

The woman's whole body went rigid and her gaze snapped back to the Orc. He raised a brow to her shocked expression.  
"You did what!?"  
"I bit you, hold onto you", Saar explained, smiling sheepishly. "They will heal, not deadly."  
Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, Oblivion no!  
The woman rose quickly to stand, a staggering a bit. She grasped onto the mer's shoulders.  
"Did you drink my blood?" she demanded with slight panic in her voice.  
"Mm, maybe? I didn't try to, I don't feed-"  
"So you did?! How much?" the woman's fingers were gripping onto the bandit's armor with whitening knuckles.  
"I- Some? Why?" the Orsimer asked with pure confusion.  
"You have to puke." the Nord commanded with grave voice.  
"What?"  
"You need to puke Saar, now."  
"And why in the Oblivion?"

* * *

The Orsimer did not like how the woman was holding him and telling to puke, looking at him like this was serious. Why was it serious?  
"Please, Saar you need to puke!"  
The Orc didn't like this at all, no idea what this was about, but the woman's almost desperate, scared tone made him scared in turn.  
Smacking her hands off the Orsimer stood up, turning around.  
"Fine", he growled. "I'll... Puke, like you said."  
Was she sick or something? The Orsimer turned his back to the mercenary and started trying to puke. Pressing his stomach and gagging until he vomited out, the bitter taste in his mouth. After the unpleasant act, spitting the awful taste, the Orsimer turned towards the woman who seemed relieved.  
"You got a disease?" he asked while wiping his mouth. He grimaced as she nodded.  
"Something like that." she answered and lifted her unharmed shoulder's arm to reach her back, but then halted, looking behind her.  
"...Whe- My- Where's my hide?"  
"Oh, it came off as I tried to keep you afloat."  
"...And my backpack?"  
"In the river."

...Covering her face with one palm the Nord sighed heavily.  
Saar could not feel a bit... Responsible for loosing her stuff. But, it was either drown or survive. And she at least still had her weapons.  
"Thank you for saving me", the woman mumbled, sighing again and looking around them. "Know where we are?"  
"No idea", the Orc said while also looking around. "New to this region."  
"Me too."  
"Well ain't we lucky."  
The mercenary laughed dryly.  
After moment turning and looking the bandit slapped lightly the mercenary's shoulder, accidentally the one he had bit, as he said: "Hey."  
The Nord didn't wince but she did tense, growling low in her throat and glaring up to him as she protectively shielded her hurt shoulder and took a step away. Bit of heat on his dark grey cheeks the Orsimer awkwardly pointed away from the river, over the bank where behind there was smoke rising.

The two walked up the bank and came to a road and saw a big house in front of them. The smoke was calmly rising from its chimney.  
"Good find", the woman said, smiling up to him.  
Shrugging his shoulders Saar looked away from her to the building. "Didn't nothing special."  
"Still, good that you saw it. Come on, maybe they can help us."  
As the mercenary started walking towards the building, the bandit followed behind. He was an Orsimer whose hands were bound. Not the best impression to give anyone whose help they needed.  
As the two were going to step the stairs up to the house's porch, the outdoor opened and a man stepped out while carrying a heavy looking, empty kettle.  
The all three of them halted, staring, until the red headed Nord spoke.  
"Welcome travelers to the Old Hroldan Inn. I'm Skuli, the owner. You here for a night or just having a drink?"  
The woman smiled apologizingly.  
"I'm very sorry but we actually need help."  
Raising a brow the man looked at the Nord woman and the Orc man, their wet appearances and the Orsimer being bound.  
Ever calmly, with unsurprised expression, the inn keeper answered: "I see."


	5. Optimist versus pessimist

**Frito Bandito:** Thank you, I shall try. **  
Jean-Moddalle:** Maybe later, still need him to stick around. Thank you for commenting.

Hopefully you'll enjoy!

* * *

The bandit and the mercenary didn't have much with them. Almost all the equipment they needed to survive in the wilderness, to make the trip to Riften from the Reach, had been in the woman's rucksack. And the river had taken it.  
Now, only what they had on, from armors to clothes, the Nord's weapons and the things hanging on her belt, to Saar's hands binding rope, was all they had.

To the Orsimer this was no new situation, so he didn't stress at all. He was used to loosing, in one way or another, his belongings and starting all over from scratches.  
But he yet hadn't been in a situation where a mercenary had him as a prisoner, determined to take him into Riften to be punished and was not going to let him die before that. What actually made this absurd was that she was treating him...  
Well, better than any other mercenary he had countered. Or most people.  
She almost treated him like he was not a bandit nor an Orc, but... A man who deserved to be treated equally.

Sitting at a table in the inn's main room Saar watched the woman arguing with the innkeeper and an old woman at the counter. The older Nord woman was probably the innkeeper's mother. The Nord man had similar soberness like she had, not surprised when Saar and the mercenary suddenly appeared to their doorsteps.  
The Orsimer glanced over the inn.  
The place was old looking and empty, seemed like travelers didn't visit much here. No doubt the innkeeper wouldn't help the two of them.  
Didn't matter.  
At this point Saar was ready to sleep even in Falmer's cave, if he just could get this wet armor off and lay down. It still was long time before the day would turn into night, but he had been moving all day from rolling down hills to running and walking and surviving in a river.  
It also would be nice to get this wet rope from his wrists. The material was itching and rubbing against his grey skin.  
Abandoning attempt to open the rope by himself Saar looked again to the counter.

Frowning the Orsimer watched as the mercenary and the innkeeper shook hands, then the man took out a paper and a quill with an ink bottle.  
Seemingly signing something the Nord woman nodded to the mother and son, then turned towards Saar with satisfied smile.  
"Everything's okay", she declared when standing in front of the confused Orc.  
"What?"  
"We can be here for four days, that should be enough, and we will get food and clothes and baths."  
Automatically suspiciousness overwhelmed Saar. Brows hunching he slightly glanced at the two other Nords, the mother and the son talking calmly together, and then looked back to the mercenary.  
"What's the deal?"  
"Just what I said?"  
"I mean", the Orsimer growled. "What do they get in exchange?"  
"Oh", the brunette voiced. Then explained while still smiling happily: "They'll sent the bill later on, so it's gold they get in exchange."  
A small smirk found its way to him.  
"You used false information?"  
The woman looked at him with deep disapprove.  
"No, I did not give them wrong identity."  
"You're gonna pay for four days of staying in a inn, plus clothes, food, and baths... Including me?"  
Saar was baffled when she just nodded.  
"Why?"  
"Why what?"  
"Why are- Do you even have the money?"  
The mercenary laughed sheepishly, rubbing the side of her mouth with one finger.  
"I might had, if not for the river... But they seem to trust me, so I can pay to them in separately."  
...Saar shook his head. This girl was just unbelievable.  
"Hey, you should be happy to get bed and food", the woman pointed out as she took out her dagger. Eyeing the thing and its wielder the Orsimer's dark brow lifted.  
"Yeah, I am. Can't just see how- What are you doing?" he asked stiffly as she took a hold of his bound hands.  
"Freeing your hands?"  
"...Why?"  
Seemed like he would be asking that a lot of from this Nord.  
She looked like she also knew this, and was getting a bit annoyed with it.

Holding his hands and a dagger she explained.  
"Because a wet rope cannot be comfortable, you probably had some abrasion. You will need to bath, put dry clothes on and eat and I don't thing bounded hands are the most effective way to do those things. And if you try anything like when you kicked me down that hill... I'll punish you. Understand?"  
Deciding to hold his tongue this time, as this surely would give him a good chance to escape at some point, Saar nodded.

As the wet rope loosened and drop from around his hands, the Orsimer started massaging his wrists. A faint shade showed where the rope had rubbed but those marks would easily fade away.  
Glancing to the mercenary who picked the rope, the Orc hesitated for a moment. But then mustered out something, that he hadn't said sincerely for a long, long time. Especially to a stranger.

"Thanks."  
The genuine smile of hers caused uncomfortable fluttering inside the large grey Orc. Every time she did that. Looking at him with that open gaze...  
"You're welcome. Now, we have those, the only two separated rooms. The one closer to the outdoor is mine. The man is Skuli and the woman is his mother, Eydis. I'll take the first bath and-"

* * *

Saar didn't remember the last time he had a proper bath, food and clothes.  
That he hadn't stolen.  
Though the first regular clothes the innkeeper had given were small on Saar. Pretty small.  
The pants were tight on him and the trouser's legs stopped just under knee. The shirt had been so small that the Orsimer had stopped when the shirt started to get stuck on his elbows.  
Luckily Skuli had some spare innkeeper's clothes, that were enough loose to fit on the big Orsimer. They were a bit tight at some places but not uncomfortably so.

The mercenary had been given one of the innkeeper's mother's dresses. It was simple with green and white colors.  
Saar looked at her like for a first time, as he was in one way, as she now didn't wear her armor and the lost wolf hide.  
She was a bit wide from her shoulders, average height and had the muscles to fight and defend herself like a warrior with a two-handed sword, sprint into action. Scars were there where fabric didn't cover her pale Nord skin.  
Yet, despite of the claw marks and some other faint, minor marks on her face... With her dark brown, half-curly hair free and down around her short, round face, she looked not so warrior-like.  
With that open gaze in her oddly warm snowstorm colored eyes, and the many honest expressions she couldn't hide when reacting and talking...  
Saar didn't understand how someone so innocent one could survive so long as a mercenary. If he had been any more worse person, he could have so many times exploited the girl's friendliness and kill her or leave her behind.  
It actually hurt to think that someone would someday use her kindness against her in the most worse way.  
And now she was paying him clothes, food and other things. Sitting next to him in the same table, eating the food the innkeeper had made.  
Saar was not sure how he should act towards her after all this.

She was taking him to Riften but yet she acted like he was... Companion or something like that.

"You don't like mushroom soup?"  
Halting from his troubled thoughts the Orsimer turned from his bowl to the woman.  
Shrugging he moved his spoon to take couple of more bites. The food was okay, nothing wrong with it. The woman though kept staring at him like he needed to say something. He didn't have anything clear to say. So he tried to distract her.  
Swallowing he asked: "So, which of your names you gave them? Ulv? Merry? Marcus?"  
Hearing her half-amused huff, and her continuing to eat, eased him.  
"...Gyvas. I told them that I'm Gyvas the-"  
Turning on the bench to fully face the embarrassing looking Nord the Orsimer pressed on.  
"Gyvas the what?"  
"Just Gyvas", she said and stuffed quickly couple spoonfuls of mushroom soup into her mouth. Saar however waited patiently and she couldn't pretend to eat for eternity.  
"Gyvas the what? I won't laugh."  
The Nord looked at him skeptically. Her bitter sounding tone was surprising.  
"You already think I'm stupid, so I don't care to hear anything mean of my name."  
"Yeah, you are stupid", Saar chuckled. She didn't find it so funny though, withdrawing from him to the end of the bench with her food. Anger and hint of hurt in her face, even though she clearly tried not to show.  
Seeing her taking his words like that just didn't help the Orsimer's messy thoughts. He had said the words half-seriously and yet he felt a bit uncomfortable for taunting her.

The hall was empty except the two of them. Eydis was in her bedroom as Skuli was doing something outside.

After hesitating some more, glancing now and then at the angry Nord, the Orsimer sighed deeply.  
"I don't get it why you are being so kind", he decided to be direct. "If you basically looked for me, you know what I am."  
"Yeah, a bandit from Carver's gang, his right hand. You robbed people on the road, killed and kidnapped some."  
"We didn't kidnap them", the Orsimer snarled. "Didn't do that until Carver wanted, and that's when we decided that shit ain't what we do."  
"You mean you and your friends at the road?"  
The Orsimer nodded stiffly. The woman looked at his face closely, asking next.  
"Why did _you_ leave Carver? You were his right hand after all."  
"Not anymore... Not for that piece of giant's steaming pile of shit."

* * *

Gyvas' mind was turning and rotating as she questioned and listened Saar about his bandit life.

The bounty letter she had taken was not just about Saar. It had his name on it, and there was also bounty of him as he was second in command, but the main thing had been the bandit gang that robbed travelers on road.  
The quest had been the regular _search and wipe out_.  
 _`Clean other keep's crap from their doorsteps´_ Friss would describe that kind of job.

After tracking a bit the mercenary had found the hideout in a cave and the bandits. And like always, they reacted with violence, wanting to kill her. She answered in the same way, putting down everyone who pointed something sharp towards her. Then, after every bandit was dead and the couple of kidnapped people set free, Gyvas had found the leader in his own private quarters.  
The Redguard named Carver had been unpleasant man, that's for sure. For what he had ordered and let his bandits do to the victims, that still just thinking of it made Gyvas feel her soul quiver in anger and made her blood howl. She had killed the Redguard and then searched through the place.  
She hadn't encountered any Orsimers in the cave, so Saar, Carver's right hand, had to be somewhere else.

Founding a letter with... A lot of foul words in it, some Gyvas had never heard of, it hinted that there had been some discord among the bandit gang. Between the right hand and the leader.  
So, after looting what she could take, the Nord had decided to hunt down the rest of the bandits.  
It had surprised her to find them in the Reach, dead on a road and then find Saar prisoned by Forsworns.

Truth to be told, the woman had excepted Saar to be... Well... Like other Orc bandits she had met in battles when cleaning abandoned places and caves from criminals with Shield-Brother or -Sister.  
But instead Saar had been tortured for days: he hadn't much of strength to move on his own when she had released him. Guess his weak state had won her over to hold her sword and help instead, like anyone who was needing her help.  
As that what Companions should do, right? Help those who couldn't help themselves. Even if they were criminals, as long as they really weren't completely bad.  
And Saar wasn't a bad person in the end, even if he was a bandit. Maybe a bit of a brute and snappy but that didn't make him a completely evil. He had even saved her in the river, and had been against kidnapping when his boss had decided that would be what they would add to their doings.  
In Gyvas eyes, Saar deserved another chance.  
Even though he seemed to have a very negative view on everything.

* * *

It was late night when Saar decided it was time.  
Nothing else in the inn was moving, the mercenary had gone to sleep sometime ago and so had the innkeeper and his mother also.  
Sliding out of his bed, in the given innkeeper's clothes, the Orsimer started sneaking. It would be great to take his armor with him but it would be too risky. The armor set was heavy and too loud to sneak with.  
He just needed to stay out of trouble until he was out of the Reach, maybe rob somebody and he would be just okay. Maybe he should go to Hjaalmarch, where there was not many villages. Find a bandit group to join. Or maybe he could be a mercenary...  
Nah, it was much safer to be in a bandit group.

It took effort and time to make his way past the mercenary's room to the front door. The hinges let out a sad groaning as he slowly opened the door, cursing and praying in his mind that no-one would hear.  
It seemed that nobody did.  
But he was still not home free. Not at all.

The mercenary was sitting on the porch's stairs, back towards him and the front door. The Nord woman was not wearing her armor but the white and green dress, nor had she her weapons. Or at least Saar didn't see any pointy things as he stood there with heart jumping to his throat.  
Without moving the woman spoke in calm manner.  
"You came to see the night sky too?"  
"...Y- Yes?" he stammered.  
The Nord moved slightly to aside and turned to look at him.  
"Wanna join me?" she asked with an innocent smile.  
Saar was sure she knew that he was not here to watch stars so he was a bit hesitant. But either going inside, that would prove he's lie, or trying to make break for it would surely be unsuccessful.  
So, the big Orc approached and sat on the upper level of the stairs, looking down at the mercenary who was looking up to the sky.  
"I love when the sky is like this", she spoke, still not looking to him, and after a moment Saar looked up.

...It was pretty night sky, yeah.  
It was clear, no clouds. Deep black blue sky that was filled with many, many bright stars that raced to twinkle brighter than another. The two moons were both almost visible. Maybe couple of night before they would both be full moons and lighting the whole Skyrim during a night.  
Two full moons...  
Saar would still be in there Forsworns' camp, tied up and tortured, if she hadn't come to him. Saar still couldn't clearly see with his other eye and his legs and arms felt numb now and then for a moment. Couple of nights and he would then be dead, sacrificed, if he still would be there.  
It started really sink in that the woman, Gyvas, really had saved his life. Saar was not sure how to feel about it. She was still getting him to Riften to punished for his crimes.  
But until then he would be breathing and moving.

"Sometimes there's aurora at the night sky and many people like that more, but that kind of sky just makes me sad." the woman kept talking. After a moment Saar asked: "Why?"  
He wasn't sure was he asking because she seemed like waiting for the question, or did he just wanted her to keep talking. She had calming voice.  
"I won't tell you", she huffed and finally looked at him with a smirk. "You'll just call me an idiot."  
"Well, if you let everything I say get to you, then you're just proving my word", he said back, teasingly.  
"You are mean."  
"The world is mean."  
"So you are mean back to it?"  
"Yeah."  
"Seems to me like endless circle."  
"What do you know, you're just a kid."  
"I'm twenty summers old."  
"Mmmm-hm, and that makes you an adult."  
"You sound like my uncle, how old are you then? Thirty?"  
Saar snorted. He maybe had grey skin but he surely didn't look that old! Or did he?  
"I'm twenty-five", he muttered and stopped looking directly at the woman. Did she had to look at him that openly, smiling and acting like-  
"So we just have five summers different. You are just as kid as I am then."  
"No, I have much more experience than you do."  
For the Oblivion, they were bickering like two kids. And it was fun, the two of them leaning towards each other with every argument, widening, challenging smiles on their faces.  
"Oh yeah? Like what?"  
Saar didn't even have to think hard.  
"I have fucked more than you have."  
...The woman fell into silence, her face turning into deep red and her eyes wide. Smugly the Orsimer leaned back and waited for some clever trying argument from her.  
"...You are..."  
Mean? Brute? Bastard? Orc? Come on, he has heard all the nicknames.  
But she did not say anything back, her stare going back to the sky and her back towards him. Saar's gaze lowered to her bare neck, that the short hair nor the dress' low collar did not cover. Smiling wickedly he silently leaned towards. And with right hand gently took some of the Nord's hair between his forefinger and thumb.  
She went tense, but did not say or do anything.

Curiously the Orsimer's dark brown eyes flickered from her to the strands that he rubbed. Soft. A bit curly from their end. Very deep, dark brown.  
Letting go of her hair he next put his whole palm resting on the top of her head, slowly starting to pet her.  
After a moment some of the tension seemed to leave her shoulders. Saar felt... Curiousness. A bit excitement too? As the woman did not pull away nor leaned to him.  
The two of them were completely in silence, the Orsimer petting the Nord's hair for sometime. It was a bit odd, to both of them. But something they really did not want to stop soon, as absurd as it was, a bandit petting a mercenary.  
But as the time passed, it was Saar this time, who broke the silence.  
"...Why do you want to be mercenary?"  
The woman did not answer right away, and Saar almost thought she was asleep, as for how relaxed she looked from behind.  
"Would you call me an idiot, if I answered, that I want to help people?"  
He didn't answer back, waiting for her to continue.  
"...I know that mercenaries are seen as almost as bad as bandits, we kill for money almost anyone. But we live in a world where it's to kill or be killed. It's for surviving, for most of us. But... I want to be that kind of mercenary, a warrior, who fights to help people who can't help themselves. And not just fight by swords. Some people make mistakes because they feel like there's no other way to go. I wanna show them, that there's always a way: it just sometimes hard to find and hard to walk through. But with someone, who can bear it with you, you can do the right thing."

The Nord turned to look over her shoulder at the staring Orsimer. His hand laying still on her head.  
"I wanna be that kind of mercenary."

...Well, she was maybe a bit more mature than he gave her credit for. But she still was too childish to be a mercenary.  
Saar pressed his palm against the girl's bare skin.  
She jumped with a yelp and cowering from him.  
"Your hand is cold!" she snarled with teeth bared to him. Saar stood up with a smirk.  
"That's because I'm an orc bandit. We have cold hands and cold hearts", he laughed. "We only get warm by spilling blood of those who we rob."  
Turning away he got back inside, walking to his own room and laid onto his bed.  
She was stupid little thing. She was going to help him to a right path was she? It sounded so stupid, so innocent that she reminded him of-  
The Nord's words only made Saar feel bitterness, wanting to make her see somehow that he was not something to be saved nor helped.  
He didn't want that. He didn't deserve it.


End file.
